


Flushed and Sweating

by krystalliumm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dom Harry Potter, Gay, Gay Sex, HP Kinkfest 2020, Happy Ending, Kinky, M/M, Oneshot, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, hung harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystalliumm/pseuds/krystalliumm
Summary: Draco had a simple routine every night: stay up 'til twelve, do laps around the Quidditch Pitch, then take a nice and relaxing shower. And of course, his routine just had to be disturbed by none other than Harry Potter. A very naked, and hung Harry Potter.𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 682
Collections: Started stories





	Flushed and Sweating

He felt like he always knew; in a way, at least. Damn Potter for always being so bloody fit.

A whirl of embarrassment and white-hot arousal stirred within Draco, filling in the empty gaps in his head and vaguely constructing unwanted images that he’d rather not think about. He had only meant to take a nice warm shower after taking a few laps around the Quidditch pitch in the middle of the night, but he certainly hadn’t expected Potter of all people to be there.

Apparently, Draco must have let out an undignified sound because Potter suddenly stopped his bathing ministrations, horror dawning in his face.

“Malfoy?” The black-haired boy turned around so sharply that he knocked a lavender-scented soap down onto the tiled floor with a wet thud.

Under normal circumstances, Draco would have put his Malfoy mask back on and sneered at Potter for being so inadeptly mindless, but at the moment all he could do was stare at that flushed, red-tipped—

“Eyes up here,” snapped Potter, pulling the distracted Slytherin out of his thoughts. Draco was slightly mortified to find his cheeks heating as the raven softened his tone. “Would you mind leaving me alone now?”

Draco had to grip on to the last of his dignity to try and not look down. “I—um, yeah. Okay. But, um—I can’t use—this one’s only—”

Potter raised an eyebrow at him, but it wasn’t in the mocking type of way that usually made Draco's irritation flare up. If anything, it looked more . . . teasing. Amused, to put it in better words.

Draco felt himself go hot, and it didn’t help that there was a particular traitorous part of his body that went stiff. He settled on for a cool and collected voice, trying to put on his Malfoy mask. “I meant the other showers were locked, and I don’t think any of my housemates will be remarkably happy once they wake up to me showering in the dead of the night.”

Potter glanced at him thoughtfully. “Ah.” And the bastard, the utterly imbecilic bastard, ran his gaze down the Slytherin’s Quidditch-clad body noticeably. “Practicing laps?”

He practically keened at the double meaning. “Yes,” whispered Draco, forgetting about what was left of his now-shattered Malfoy mask. At the moment, all he could do was think of just bolting out of the door and burying his face in his pillow to try and ignore the humiliation coursing through his body.

But when Draco swiftly swiveled around to walk out the shower stalls entirely, a calloused hand tugged him back with defiance.

“Let me go, Potter!” he demanded, wishing the other didn’t hear the slight waver in his voice. Draco tried yanking his arm out of Potter’s grip, knowing it was already a lost cause when he was shoved roughly against the bathroom wall.

A rush of fear and lust clutched at him, because Potter was right there, inches away from his face, perfectly naked that Draco swore he could feel a steel-hard erection brushing lightly against his thigh—

Draco tried to shove the black-haired boy away, but it only made his lithe body press deeper into his muscled ones. A hitched groan of irritation echoed from his throat; his eyes fluttering shut.

“Potter,” he breathed, mind clouded with an unquenchable thirst, because he needed to get out of these clothes, it was too hot, he could feel sweat trickle down his spine and unto the cleft of his—oh, it was right there, dripping over and bypassing the little rosy pucker—

Draco threw his head back, swallowing harshly as a gentle finger traced down his chin, his jaw, then his neck, peppering them with feather-light touches, one that made his breath stop entirely once it ran down his throat—

“You’re flushed and sweating,” said Potter softly, one hand curling to the side of Draco’s face. He couldn’t read what was in those vivid eyes of emerald. “You need a shower. You don’t want to go to bed all sticky and wet, do you?”

Draco blinked, swallowing a knot that formed in his throat at the blatant innuendo. He debated leaving, but then, Potter had a point—it would be near impossible to fall asleep without a good shower. But there was something else in the boy’s darkening gaze too; how it looked almost inviting.

“I—okay.” Draco cursed himself for stuttering like a fool, letting his Slytherin instincts take over once more as he sneered delicately. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind stepping away now, Potter? I must say, your body is quite something I’d like to stay away from.”

Potter didn’t even react, pulling away from him easily with a shrug. “As you wish.” Before Draco could even snap back a snarky retort, the Gryffindor grabbed a thick maroon towel, throwing it to him knowing that the other could catch it.

Draco caught it with one hand, unblinking. He neatly folded it to one side, cursing Potter quietly for ruining the organised pleats. He hastily let his Slytherin green cloak slip from his shoulders, revealing a silver shirt of silk and black trousers beneath.

Unthinkingly, he started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt whilst kicking his dragonhide boots out of his feet rather ungracefully at the same time. Draco knew that if he ever saw someone treat such precious items like this in the future, he’d internally cringe and wonder what type of people taught them to be so crude.

“Well?”

Draco inhaled sharply, almost forgetting the other boy was still there. “Can’t I have a little privacy?”

He wasn’t facing him right now, but he was almost absolutely certain that Potter grinned. “Either way, I’m gonna see you naked somehow, Malfoy.”

Draco blushed a pretty pink at the perverted thought. “Fuck off.” Making his final decision, he kept his shirt on whilst he slowly worked on pulling off his trousers. His golden-lacquered belt clunked to the floor along with a heavy thunk, letting the cold air hug his fair skin warmly.

Feeling himself go red at his dampened state, he turned to Potter.

Draco was careful with how he moved, and he was very aware of how vulnerable he must look at that moment. His shirt happened to be long enough to brush against his thighs, covering at least half of what he hoped was not hard from just the sight of the black-haired boy. Draco cursed for not having his wand with him; if only he’d known he would have company in the showers, then he would’ve brought the one thing he could use to defend himself.

Potter ran his misty gaze over his body once more, causing the Slytherin to instinctively yelp and cover himself up. “Potter!”

“Malfoy!” said Potter, mimicking his high-pitched tone. The blond narrowed his eyes at him threateningly, right as the other broke into a genuine smile of mirth. But there was something else in those stupidly green eyes, too—an emotion he couldn’t read.

Potter raised his hands to his head. “All right, all right, I’m kidding! See, no wands here.” He showed his palms outwardly to Draco, showing that he was indeed unarmed. “Forgive a guy for celebrating over the fact that his dick is bigger than his rival’s.”

Draco found himself spluttering, the deceitful thing between his thighs twitching against the silk. “It is not—we’re completely—oh, shut it,” he scowled when Potter’s grin became wider, teeth flashing.

Even for someone like Potter, the outrageous hero of the Wizarding world and his upmost rival to almost everything, Draco had to ashamedly admit that the Gryffindor was . . . well, hung. Annoyingly, perversely, and exasperatingly hung. He could almost imagine and feel that hard length caress his soft skin between his things, sliding along the crack of his—the crack of his—

“Take the shirt off,” said Potter.

A sound—most likely a faint yelp—echoed from his throat. “What?” Draco croaked, now clutching at the hem of his silken shirt like it was his only lifeline.

Potter didn’t even blink. “Take the shirt off, Malfoy.” He cocked his head at him, his darkening eyes glinting and feral. Hungry. Starving. An invitation that could possibly turn things around for the both of them.

Draco wanted it, of course. Wanted the offer. Wanted Potter.

But he also wanted to play a little game first, because who was he, if not a Slytherin to the very core?

So, Draco lifted his chin. Looked into those eyes, that rough jawline, and let his gaze slip downwards. “Make me.”

“What did you say?”

Oh, he was in for it. “I said, make me. Are you deaf?”

Potter threw him a dark smile; a sealed promise. He lunged forwards, making a move for Draco as one bristle arm pinned him to the shower wall by the throat. The Slytherin gasped, moist air hitting his skin as he felt cold water run down his back. Draco growled as Potter trapped his pale wrists to the wall at either side of his head, but it soon turned into a breathless whimper when a wave of pleasure shot up his spine.

“Fu—fuck you,” gasped Draco, realising that Potter was shamelessly rutting into him, brushing against his obvious erection. A shaky breath left him as the other boy dived in, hiding his face into Draco’s neck, sniffing him—scenting him.

He felt Potter lick his earlobe slowly, tantalizingly. Draco’s head thumped against the wall as he let his eyes close, the tiny whine that left his lips hanging in the air.

Oh, Merlin.

Draco kept his eyes shut, only realising that his back had arched off the wall and was pressing unto Potter’s powerful body. “Potter,” he whined, not quite sure what he was asking for. “Potter, come on, I—”

Draco gasped loudly, and nothing could have prepared him to what Potter did next. The raven pressed his nose to the side of Draco’s face and shoved his tongue inside, mercilessly tongue-fucking his ear.

“Po—Potter!” Draco tried to break his wrists free, but Potter had an ironclad grip on him. Little sparks of pleasure arose and went straight to his erection as Potter continued his ministrations, swirling the soft skin of his earlobe before roughly diving back in repeatedly.

His cock was throbbing, flushed and red and completely past the hem of his shirt. Draco couldn’t help but moan as he watched precum drip down his cock, slick and leaking and pooling on the floor all pearly and white—

Draco felt a rising heat of desire as he blushed a furious red, realising with a mount of shame that he was so close to his orgasm without even being touched—

A hand wrapped around his cock, fisting the red tip while the thumb teased his slit. Draco’s breath shook, unshed tears prickling at the corners of his eyes at the denial to come. He found himself begging, pleading in weak whispers, because he needed it so bad, he felt like he was going to die if he didn’t—

“Not yet, kitten,” growled Potter, pulling away and looking astounded at what he’s done to the Malfoy heir. Draco found himself panting, scrambling to grasp Potter’s hand away from his leaking cock.

“Don’t—” Draco tried to close his legs, but all he could focus on was how the other was thumbing at his slit, and how he leaned in to pull the desirous Slytherin into a kiss.

The kiss was nothing innocent of the sort. It was wet and sloppy, and their hands were fumbling over one another, desperate to touch smooth bare skin; golden-tanned and powerfully built against his pale and delicate ones. Draco couldn’t breathe, not when he felt lost with arousal everywhere—tongue battling against tongue, a hand lifting his shirt and teasing a pink nipple, the hand stroking his cock and coming back up to play with the throbbing tip—

Draco couldn’t focus on the kiss. He was thrusting up into Potter’s calloused hand, only to have his nipple be tweaked harshly. Draco gasped, and Potter drew back—and though their lips were no longer ravaging one another, that didn’t mean the raven stopped teasing other sensitive parts of his body.

He felt Potter smirk against him. Bastard. “So, what were you trying to say earlier?”

The hand to his nipple dropped, and as Draco let a whine slip by his lips, the same hand sneaked in below his shirt and found the rosy pucker between the two high globes of his arse.

“Answer me, Malfoy.” The finger circled his pink rim, and whenever he thought it would push in, Potter would pull away and prolong the blond’s torment.

“Please.” Draco swallowed, his eyes falling shut as he attempted once more to push his arse down on the Potter’s finger. When the other refused, he felt a sob wrack his body. “P—please, Potter, I’d do anything, please, please—”

“Anything, kitten?” purred Potter, making another wave of hot warmth and arousal fill his head.

Draco’s pink-tipped knees shook, and he realised the only reason he hasn’t fallen was because one of his thighs were being lifted by Potter’s arm. “Don’t—don’t call me that.”

Potter neared him, watching his face, his vivid eyes nearly black from his lust-blown pupils. “Try me.” Without warning, he pushed in two fingers inside the blond all the way to the firm knuckles, making Draco cry out as he buried his face in Potter’s shoulder.

“You’re beautiful like this.” Draco mewled in the boy’s arms, the two long digits pumping inside him in a torturous pace while a hand fondled his balls. “I want to do so many things to you, you know? I bet you like it hard and rough, me tying you up and fucking you ‘till you can’t see straight. Would you like that, kitten?”

Draco’s toes curled nervously, breathing harsh as the two fingers pulled out. When the hand on his cock was no longer there, he frowned, ignoring the bloom of disappointment aching in his chest. “Potter, what are you—”

“Turn around.” So simple. Firm. Determined.

Draco blushed, not because of how Potter’s hand was wandering through the most vulnerable parts of his body, but because how he submitted so easily to the command. A knot formed in his throat as one of Potter’s hands dropped to his arse, spreading his legs so he could see the little flushed hole beneath.

“Look at you. So perfect for me.” Draco’s mouth parted slightly, reaching a hand to provide the attention his dripping cock needed. Potter noticed it right away, gripping the blond’s delicate wrist in warning. “Don’t touch yourself unless I say so.”

Draco nodded quickly, deciding to raise his arms to his mouth to try and quiet the embarrassing noises he was making. From the corner of his eye, he saw Potter drop down to his knees behind him, right before his hand sneaked inside Draco’s shirt and stroked his cock. “What—” he swallowed quickly, “what are you—oh, fuck!”

That tongue. That damn tongue.

Potter leaned in, burying his nose between Draco’s arse as his tongue ravaged his rim roughly. He licked, sucked, thrusted inside the Slytherin with his tongue like a starving wolf, feeding off of the slick that secreted from his tight hole. Draco whimpered pathetically, trying to push back, but Potter was gripping his wet thighs so brutally he was sure he’d get bruises by the end of it.

It was so dirty, so wrong—but it felt so good.

Draco tried to jerk his wrists away from Potter’s stern hands, but the other was having none of it. The blond let a soft moan fall from his lips because gods, he was so close, just a little more—

His back arched off the wall, coming on the patterned walls with a sharp cry as he bucked his hips. Shiny white globs of his come stained the walls, his breath ragged as he tried to clear the pounding in his head. Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, muscled arms holding him up by the sides and pressing him against the wall.

“Potter,” he breathed, realising just now that Potter’s tongue was no longer fucking him—instead, it was his hard cock, slowly filling his hole up. Draco whimpered as the raven began noisily sucking at his neck with open-mouthed kisses at the same time, teasingly reaching up and licking his earlobe. He felt his wilted cock harden again, making him moan in protest. “Potter, I—”

“Did I tell you to come?”

“N—no,” gasped Draco as one strong hand came to rest on his stomach, pushing him downwards on Potter’s cock. Fuck, it was too much, he couldn’t take it any longer, he felt like he was going to be torn apart even if it felt so fucking good— “W—wait!”

Potter stopped abruptly, his hand on the Slytherin’s stomach reaching up to caress him gently. Softly. Almost like he actually cared. “Too rough?”

Draco turned pink, and he knew there was no point in hiding it. “Ne—never mind.”

Then he felt Potter roam his body once more; his chest, his nipples, then his neck. Draco’s cheeks heated, knowing all too well that his neck was abused by one too many love bites. There was a pool of pleasure that swirled in his stomach at the thought of keeping the hickeys instead of spelling them away as Draco would have done with other sexual encounters—but the thought itself of driving the Gryffindor mad by flaunting them around was enough motivation for him to do so.

Potter leaned in on his ear, whispering softly, “Let me take care of you, Draco.”

And there was something, something unexplainable that made his head spin. “Y—yes,” he stuttered out, and he swore he saw Potter smile right before thrusting in with no such finesse.

A throaty moan echoed in the cramped shower stall they were in as Draco pushed back at Potter, making the both of them groan.

“So fucking perfect,” growled Potter, using one hand to keep the Slytherin’s head against the wall whilst the other gripped his hips. Draco tried to keep quiet by biting his lips roughly, but Potter’s perfectly aimed thrusts hitting the little nub inside him was enough to make his dignity shatter.

“Do you know—” A thrust. “—how fucking hot—” Another thrust. “—you are like this?”

Draco couldn’t speak, even if he tried to. He couldn’t hear any of the dirty nothings Potter was whispering in his ear filthily—he couldn’t even hear himself moan like some whore in a club. All he could focus on was that velvet-wrapped steel pounding into him, hitting his sweet spot every single time, eliciting a moan along with whispered pleas to echo from his throat.

“Shit,” Draco whispered, feeling the familiar rush of hotness rise in his cock. He shut his eyes tightly. “I need to—” another sob escaped his body, making him tremble. “Potter—”

Potter thrusted into him, more viciously than the last, needling out a scream from the Slytherin that bounced off the walls. Before Draco even knew it, tears were already running down his face from the blissful pain washing over him. “Fuck—oh fuck—please let me come, please—”

Potter slammed home as Draco cried out, releasing his come unto the white-splattered walls as he felt something as equally as dirty and wet fill his insides. “F—fuck.” Potter came inside him. Potter came inside him.

Too worked up to wrap his head around the thought, Draco focused on trying to inhale right. His breaths came in short pants, tiredness suddenly crooning at him and making his legs shake as the cock inside him drew out with a slick pop.

It stayed like that for a few seconds. Their breaths were rhythmic; Draco was breathing through his nose harshly, his chest falling up and down at a pace as he tried to get rid of the inevitable ringing in his head. The hands on his hips have slid up, clinging to his upper body in an almost protective-like way that made his heart twinge.

A whole five minutes must’ve passed, maybe even more, because he suddenly heard Potter musing above him, “Have you fallen asleep?”

Draco cracked an eyelid open, inanely wondering how he managed to find himself in Harry Potter’s arms, of all people. His lips parted to speak, to let out a single sound or maybe even curse the Gryffindor to hell, but nothing came out. His cheeks flushed.

Potter smiled at him, running a hand through Draco’s hair. “Same.” The Slytherin heard him whisper a soft Scourgify, letting the earnest sweat and water on their body vanish into thin air like a cool breeze. Draco muttered something incoherent.

“What did you say?”

Draco didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Potter was smirking at him. He snuggled closer. “Wandless magic. Show-off.”

Potter’s chest rumbled with laughter. “I shouldn’t even be surprised. Are you still on with that shower or not?”

A hand patiently tugged at Draco’s arm, but he didn’t move a single muscle. “Tired,” the blond murmured quietly, finding way too much comfort for his own liking in the crook of Potter’s neck. “Wanna stay with you.”

The raven smiled crookedly at him. “With me? In the Gryffindor dorms?”

“Stop talking,” mumbled Draco, and just about when he felt like the soothing darkness of sleep was about to claim him, he heard Potter speak softly once more.

“I think I’ve wanted this for quite some time now.”

Draco’s breath hitched, his body going stiff. “This? What, you’ve wanted sex for a long time now or something?”

Potter smiled at him; it was so genuine—so real. “Not that. You. I’ve wanted you all this time, and I never realised it.”

They both slept well that night, arms tangled and legs interlocked. It was everything they could’ve asked for.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at:
> 
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> 
> if you want me to do more fics [either a whole fic or a small oneshot], you are welcome to send me requests in my inbox through any of the three sites listed above. i not only do drarry, but also other gay percy jackson ships are welcome!
> 
> so, is this fic a yay or a nay?


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